I just finished A Room of One's Own, watching this time instead of reading, and I really need to write about it. I was maybe going to discuss it earlier and I got distracted (as is wont to happen).

Virginia Woolf seems to me a classic case of a woman that doesn't want to accept that she's a woman. What I mean by that is, her goal, for writer's at least, is androgyny. She claims this is necessary because if you exist as man or woman purely, if you speak in any way consciously of what you are, it will be fatal. Your work, what seems brilliant and relevant in the moment will "wither and die by nightfall." I ask you, how can discussing things from the perspective of myself doom me by dent of my being one gender instead of two? I know what Woolf is trying to say, that we must each of us be dialogic, aware of not only ourselves but all others and how we all relate, but the way she does it with the exclusion of characteristics instead of the working with/through said characteristics leaves me sad and disheartened.

I am a woman and will never know what it is like to be a man, not truly. There are socially-gendered activities that might be considered "manly" that I have and will partake in, but that does not make me a womanly-man or show me what it would be like to be male. We can, and I think we should, work to abolish the constructed roles we place around gender, but we should not forget that it is different to be a man than it is to be a woman and that is natural. And I think, furthermore, that if one strives for androgyny instead of inclusiveness that it is a sign that some of society's constructed gender roles have been internalized. What does it mean for me to take issue with misogyny, much as Woolf does even as she argues for androgyny, in my writing? Does that weaken me as a writer truly? I understand that persuasiveness is more appealing that argumentation, but can I not argue sweetly and persuasively that society should treat men and women equally?

What I am trying to say, I think, is that everyone's experience is different. Man or woman, none of us experiences life the same way. These experiences are shaped by our age, culture, era, and, yes, gender. For better or worse if we are to understand each other, we must first understand ourselves. If I am to transcend understanding of women to an understanding of society, I must first understand women and society. Just because I do not acknowledge the effect of society upon my thoughts does not mean the effect is not there.

I am struck most by how Virginia Woolf seems to precede her time in thought and philosophy and how that very genius seems to be what dooms her. I see her espousing the philosophy of the Enlightenment, especially at the end as she discusses how we, women, must prepare for the next coming of Shakespeare’s sister. We must embrace “reality” instead of only the male/female binary. I agree with her completely, but it seems to me she is arguing for dialogism--not a search for the truth, but an understanding of all truths.

I can't help but think of the attitudes expressed in my own family and how so many female acquaintances in my life, much like Woolf attempt to "transcend' their femininity by ignoring it. This accounts I would say in part for my sadness when I read this. I come from a family of tough people and tough women and to show emotion is to show weakness. You can show happiness to a degree, anger in spades, but no sadness. No pain. Such tender emotions are "women's" emotions and strong people don't feel them, let alone show them. It seems for some members of my family the obvious answer to misogyny is to simply do away with femininity. I can't, and won't, believe that is true.

I've watched people in my life take this attitude to the extreme--never crying in public, rarely admitting to crying at all. Holding back grief and boasting of their ability to resist tears even at funerals. I've watched those same people steadily lose their grip on reality. In their on-going struggle to be strong, they have begun to fight themselves. Human beings are not emotionless creatures; even the most staid of us feel something. To ignore these feelings or not acknowledge them is not to strengthen ourselves but to hurt ourselves, to repress and struggle with all we don't like. I've watched people descend into insanity because of it, losing touch with the humanity their fighting so desperately to perfect.

This is all of roundabout way of saying that I’m glad I finally read this text because it’s an important reminder of why I must embrace all that I am, not just the parts that I like best.